


the runaway prince

by _helios (neocitz)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, High Fantasy, M/M, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Seo Youngho | Johnny, Minor Lee Jeno/Mark Lee, Minor Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitz/pseuds/_helios
Summary: If Taeyong had been kidnapped, then perhaps Donghyuck and plenty more would have been more forgiving of his brother’s disappearance. But Doyoung had been the one to find the note, the one that was filled of apologies and ridiculous dreams. He’d been the one to pass it onto the King, and the Queen and the two princes that had been left behind without a shred of respect or regard.True Love, Taeyong had insisted in a flourishing cursive. He didn’t want to be confined by the walls of the palace and the restrictions of royal life. He’d met a boy whose smile lit up his world, and spoke of promises beyond what being a prince could offer.Five years later, Taeyong returns but Donghyuck cannot afford to be forgiving.





	the runaway prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is something a little different. I hope you enjoy it.

Donghyuck wakes to the sound of pounding feet in the corridor. His fingers curl around the dagger beneath his pillow, heart pounding in his ears. It’s like thunder, echoing through the palace as feet race against the ground and unintelligible cries bounce off the walls. Donghyuck’s normally slow to wake and rise, but the night is cold and his mind is clear as he rises to action.

 _Revolution_.

The thought is bred from years of an unloved king, a missing heir and growing unrest in the city. Donghyuck’s never toyed with the idea that the population would actually rise up, protest the incompetency of his father, but he isn’t surprised. Despite the chill against his skin and the shaking of his hands, he rises and moves as composed as he can. Donghyuck refuses to die tonight.

His door opens, warm candlelight slipping into the darkness of his room, and Donghyuck turns to see Jeno. He’s half lit by the lantern in his hand, but it’s enough to see the shocked smile on his face. Donghyuck stops where he stands, because Jeno loves him too much to be pleased at the destruction of the royal family.

‘What is it?’

‘Your brother,’ Jeno says, ‘he’s returned.’

‘Mark’s not due back for another three weeks.’ Donghyuck rushes to his robes, pulling them over his sleep clothes as if Mark cares about decorum. ‘Has he been injured? His troops?’

‘No.’ Jeno places the lantern down on Donghyuck’s desk. It casts a glow over the pair of them, dim and weak but shared between the pair of them. He takes Donghyuck’s hands, and Donghyuck only know why when he says his next words. ‘Crown Prince Taeyong.’

 

 

A prince’s role is defined at birth. Whilst Taeyong had been trained for leadership and Mark for battle, Donghyuck was trained for diplomacy. By the age of ten, his best friend was the Crown Prince Renjun of the Western Lands and Lord Kibum of the North declared Donghyuck his favourite guest. Donghyuck was bright and bold and close to everyone, except his own family.

Mark was always closer to their oldest brother. They understood each other in silence and softness and determination. Taeyong loved Donghyuck enough, he assumed, but Donghyuck was a mere thirteen-year-old boy more concerned with how to sneak into the kitchens with Jeno.

Taeyong was eighteen and would soon have to run a kingdom.

The three of them went out into the city to celebrate the start of Spring. It had been Taeyong’s idea, saying that his brothers were still children and deserved to attend the festival. Banquets, filled with wine and politics, were something that the boys didn’t need to attend.

It was their mother who caved and assigned the small party of guards and younger nobles to protect the three princes. Donghyuck pouted and whined, and soon he was able to bring his _other_ best friend Jeno on the trip as well.

Donghyuck wore someone else’s clothes, a little too small but not ostentatious like royalty’s silk. The clothes felt ordinary and it was almost like a game, Jeno and Donghyuck could be _normal_ together instead of a prince and a lord-to-be who weren’t yet aware of the futures waiting for them.

The lights were bright, and the music was loud, and it didn’t take long for Jeno and Donghyuck to beg for something to eat. Street food, they knew from the kitchen boys’ whispers, was rich and warm and different. It was cheap cuts and strong spices, food made not to impress a king but someone who needed a good meal after a long day.

Taeyong encouraged it, pressed a few coins into Doyoung’s hands and told him to look after Donghyuck. _Spoil him,_ Taeyong whispered, with a smile as he looked at Donghyuck’s wide eyes. It was the largest smile Taeyong ever directed at Donghyuck, and it was only years later when Donghyuck realised that this was because it was intended to be his last.

Mark and Youngho instead headed towards a storyteller who regaled the children with tales beyond the city gates. The pair of them had sat down, and when Donghyuck and Jeno found them half an hour later, Mark’s eyes were wide with wonder and excitement. Donghyuck thought, even then, that his older brother was destined for greater things than war.

Some time between them running off to find food and joining Mark and Youngho at the storyteller’s booth, Taeyong disappeared.

 

 

Donghyuck and Jeno make their way down to the stables as the palace comes to life around them. Maids rush to Taeyong’s abandoned quarters, to open the windows and let out the dust that’s been the only occupant of the room in five years. Donghyuck can smell garlic and chili, presumably as the cooks prepare for their favourite prince’s return.

The moon is high in the sky and exhaustion sits in the corners of everyone’s eyes, but nothing can quiet the ripple of excitement and wonder through the palace.

Donghyuck’s robe barely protects him from the chill of the night, but Jeno’s already sent someone off to get him something thicker and warmer. They’re going to be the only ones who greet Taeyong tonight, Mark having been sent to the Eastern States to help settle a rebellion at their borders and their father too tired or indifferent to rise out of bed.

‘What do we know?’ Donghyuck asks, adjusting the fit of his clothes to make it look as if he wasn’t thrown from his bed into a mess. How he’s supposed to look put together at three in the morning, he’s not sure, but it’s what is expected of him as the second in line for the throne.

Third, again. Maybe.  

‘Prince Taeyong rode into town about an hour ago,’ Jeno says, trailing after Donghyuck with his sword on his hip and his hair in complete disarray. ‘He and his party stopped to find a place to spend the night, then they made their way over here to escort the prince back to the palace.’

‘Party?’

‘A handful of men, about seven besides himself.’

Donghyuck nods. He isn’t surprised, Taeyong was always quiet but charismatic and if he put his mind to it then he would certainly have been able to gather a group of people to follow him. He and Mark were the same, leaders and inspirers and people that are well loved.

‘See if someone knows anything about them, we have to know _why_ Taeyong’s been gone for so long and why he’s back.’

‘You don’t trust him?’ Jeno asks, voice low and honest.

Donghyuck stops, shy of the door that would lead them to the stables. He turns to Jeno, ignoring the scattering of staff that rush past them in their frenzy to prepare the palace for visitors. He’s not scared, because he’s long since let go of the memories of a man that left him without a word.

‘It’s been five years, I don’t _know_ him.’

Jeno’s expression, so usually opening and warm, is serious and stoic as he nods. Not for the first time, Donghyuck’s glad that he’s spent his entire life with Jeno by his side. The boy is more a brother than the two men connected to Donghyuck by blood. Donghyuck forces a smile in gratitude before he smooths down his robe one more time.

‘Does Doyoung know that Taeyong’s back?’

Jeno’s silence is enough, and Donghyuck bites back a curse as he starts walking again. Doyoung’s quarters are closer to the stables and he’s always been faster to get ready than Donghyuck. He was probably the first to make his way down.

‘Make sure that Youngho and Jaehyun are there, if they’re not already,’ he says, ‘I don’t want Doyoung alone with them unless absolutely necessary.’

‘He’s not going to like that,’ Jeno mutters under his breath, and Donghyuck throws a small glare over his shoulder as the pair of them walk outside.

‘He can deal with it,’ Donghyuck says. ‘I’m not having him arrested for assaulting a member of the royal family. Deserter or not.’

The stables is already surrounded, a line of the night guard snapping to attention as Donghyuck walks through. Jeno falls into step behind him, and if Donghyuck turned around he’s sure that Jeno’s head would be bent with just enough respect that, on an ordinary day, might make Donghyuck snort out a laugh.

The captain of the guard waits at the entrance at the stables. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, armour sharp and shining and nothing betraying the fact that she’d likely been sleeping in the barracks until news of strangers were coming to town.

‘Lord Kim’s waiting for you,’ Captain Kim says, stepping to fall into line with Jeno. ‘He’s not pleased.’

‘He never is, when Taeyong’s concerned.’

Some of Captain Kim’s guards are spread across the room, enough to intimidate but not too many to crowd them. It shouldn’t feel right, to greet the Crown Prince in a place as dirty and as removed from the glamour of the palace as the stables. Donghyuck doesn’t care, hasn’t cared for a long time.

Doyoung, Youngho and Jaehyun stand in the centre of the room, circled by the guards. Donghyuck can’t see his brother yet, but Doyoung’s shoulders are stiff and Jaehyun stands close enough that it should be a comfort. Youngho glances over to Donghyuck and his usually jubilant face is flat as stone, unreadable.

These men knew and loved Taeyong more than Donghyuck had ever been able to.

‘Doyoung.’

The room grows still at Donghyuck’s single word. There’s a moment, where they turn around, three sets of familiar eyes looking at him. Then Youngho, Jaehyun and Doyoung step aside, and Donghyuck sees his older brother for the first time in five years. 

 

 

Donghyuck isn’t sure what he was expecting. They’ve all grown up over the past five years, but Taeyong’s grown up differently to what he expected. Taeyong was always larger than life, with a sharp jawline and brows that sometimes tilted too far down to be friendly. At thirteen, Donghyuck had always felt like an ant next to his oldest brother.

At eighteen, Donghyuck is barely shorter than Taeyong.

Taeyong’s too long hair falls into his eyes in thin wisps, it softens the harsh line of his eyebrows and makes his eyes seem larger. His clothes are a little bit too large, and make his already small frame look delicate in the flickering light of the flames. He’s startling old and young at the same time – Donghyuck still remembers a boy who is eighteen, but bigger and older and greater than anything he will ever be.

‘Oh my,’ Taeyong’s voice hasn’t changed in five years. It’s the voice of crackled laughter, and agreements with their father, and story time from a period that Donghyuck can’t even recall. ‘ _Donghyuck?’_

‘Welcome back,’ Donghyuck says, and his voice catches enough in his throat before he clears it down. He has to walk past Doyoung, Jaehyun and Youngho to greet Taeyong properly, and he can’t help but look at them instead. Because he can’t look at Taeyong yet.

Youngho’s face softens only slightly as he nods at Donghyuck, the only comfort they can offer in front of strangers.

‘You’ve grown so much.’ Taeyong stumbles forward, reaching out for Donghyuck.

His hands are bony and cold against Donghyuck’s cheeks, and Donghyuck only barely resists flinching back from his brother’s grasp. If Taeyong notices, he doesn’t react as he runs his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair, patting it down into place.

‘It has been five years,’ Donghyuck reminds his brother, doing his best to keep bitterness and anger and upset out of his voice. He will not let Taeyong ruin him again. ‘I trust you and your friends had a safe trip into the city.’

Taeyong pulls back, and his eyes lose that little bit of that sparkle as he recognises the tone in Donghyuck’s voice. The one that gets trained into them by tutors and nannies, to ensure that they come across as polite and kind to diplomats from across the world.

‘Yes, we did,’ he says, chin tipping down. It’s not the posture of a prince, disappointed and dejected, and Donghyuck wants to laugh out of sheer disbelief. He would dare to say that Taeyong was expecting to be welcomed home with open arms and delight. If Mark had been the one to greet him, he may have been.

But Donghyuck is less kind than their middle brother, and less forgiving.

‘Shall we go somewhere warmer?’ Jeno suggests, and it’s enough of a distraction for Donghyuck to turn around and flash his friend a smile. ‘The stables aren’t the best place to host a welcome home party.’

‘I think that sounds like a good idea,’ Jaehyun says. Doyoung’s not moved from where he’s stood next to him, lips pressed together, and jaw clenched. Jaehyun’s attention is on Taeyong, but his hand rests on Doyoung’s elbow in the quietest of comfort. ‘Have you and … your friends eaten?’

‘Not yet.’ Taeyong glances behind him, and Donghyuck notices the group of people who stand behind him for the first time. ‘We wouldn’t want to put anyone out of their way.’

Donghyuck actually laughs at that, and it earns him a sharp glare from Youngho and a roll of Jaehyun’s eyes. When Taeyong looks back at him, his eyes are large and hurt. Donghyuck can’t look at him, forces a smile on his face as he looks over Taeyong’s shoulder.

‘We’ll head to the dining hall then,’ he says.

 

 

If Taeyong had been kidnapped, then perhaps Donghyuck and plenty more would have been more forgiving of his brother’s disappearance. But Doyoung had been the one to find the note, the one that was filled of apologies and ridiculous dreams. He’d been the one to pass it onto the King, and the Queen and the two princes that had been left behind without a shred of respect or regard.

True Love, Taeyong had insisted in a flourishing cursive. He didn’t want to be confined by the walls of the palace and the restrictions of royal life. He’d met a boy whose smile lit up his world, and spoke of promises beyond what being a prince could offer.

A boy named Nakamoto Yuta.

Donghyuck picks at his food. He’s not hungry, had eaten his fill in his rooms earlier that night, but pretends as Taeyong’s friends work their way through the spread of food with enough enthusiasm to make Donghyuck think they’d been riding all day.

Nakamoto Yuta sits two seats down on the other side of the table. This man with his broad smile and his sparkling eyes is one of the most handsome people Donghyuck’s ever seen. He’s grinning, laughing as he talks to the boy next to him, and Donghyuck hates him with every fibre of his being.

Taeyong’s on his other side, more reserved as his gaze darts from person to person. His eyes always moves to Donghyuck, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He hasn’t eaten either, but more because his hands haven’t moved from his lap.

‘I understand that you’ve gone to the city already to find accommodation,’ Donghyuck says, when he’s sick of Taeyong’s flighty gaze. ‘You and your friends are welcome to stay in the palace. We’ve cleaned out your old rooms as well as the guest quarters.’

‘I–,’ Taeyong can only nod. It shouldn’t make Donghyuck feel triumphant, but it does. ‘Thank you, we’d appreciate the hospitality.’ 

‘Youngho will ensure that you all get shown to your rooms,’ Donghyuck stands up, looking at the spread of people in front of me. ‘I apologise for being rude, but Doyoung and I have an early day tomorrow and we must get back to bed.’

‘Of course,’ Taeyong nods.

Doyoung rises as well, posture stiff as he draws closer to Donghyuck. Taeyong doesn’t try to stop them, Nakamoto Yuta’s smile doesn’t drop, and Donghyuck and Doyoung walk out of the dining hall into the emptiness of the hallway.

It’s only then that Donghyuck lets himself crumple, Doyoung’s arms looping around him as he helps the prince to his bedroom.

 

 

When Donghyuck wakes the next morning, he almost thinks that Taeyong’s return was a dream. It’s only when he sees the note from Jeno stating that he sent a messenger to Mark than the realisation washes over him and he needs to sit down on his bed.

‘Shit,’ he mutters, combing his hair through his fingers. He laughs and it’s like a gurgled sob as he leans forward. ‘ _Shit._ ’

‘Princes do not swear,’ Doyoung says, walking into the room with a brisk click of shoes against the wooden floor.

‘They do when their brother comes back from the dead.’ Donghyuck allows himself twenty seconds of fear, of anger and upset, before he pushes himself up to stand again. Princes might swear when their brothers come back from the dead, but personal problems pale in the light of more important things. ‘I wasn’t the only one who wanted to punch him in the face, was I?’

‘Definitely not,’ Doyoung laughs, bitter at the edges but still with a ring of truth to it. ‘Jaehyun just about decked him as soon as he walked into the stables. Youngho had to intervene and act all polite with his entire party.’

‘Why did he bring them?’ Donghyuck mutters, stripping out of his sleep clothes. ‘Why did he even _return_?’

‘We’ll find out,’ Doyoung says, sorting through the piles of paper on Donghyuck’s desk. ‘I’ve had guards assigned to all of them, and we’re monitoring them for any suspicious activity.’

Despite the fact that Doyoung is one of the more respected Lords and scholars in the palace, Donghyuck’s always trusted him more than the manservants to help him prepare for the day. There’s a routine, built on a lifetime of friendship and understanding, that has Donghyuck secure in the fact that the work they do together is for the good of the people.

‘Have you increased the number of people watching my father?’ Donghyuck asks, adjusting his belt in the mirror. They’re only venturing into the city today, so he can dress and pack lightly with the promise of returning home.

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Just until Mark returns. He can decide what we do then.’ 

‘He’ll be a week and a half at least. Are you sure you can spare the resources?’ 

Donghyuck walks over to where Doyoung is adding notes onto the sheets of paper, sighing when he realises it’s a letter from Emperor Kwon. He’s supposed to be negotiating an alliance they can barely afford with the kingdom, securing merchant paths along the strait between their two countries.

‘My brother has returned, no warning given, with a group of known criminals. I cannot risk my father’s safety.’ Donghyuck knows he must sound cold, because Doyoung looks up too quick with more than a bit of surprise in his eyes. 

‘You think Taeyong might be here to assassinate your father?’

‘Honestly?’ Donghyuck’s fingers trail over the letters, before he pushes them away from himself and Doyoung. ‘I don’t know. I would like to think not, but my father has a lot of enemies and very few people want him to stay on the throne.’

Donghyuck included. 

Donghyuck’s technically not visiting the city in any official capacity. He is supposed to spend his days in the barracks learning the strategies of War. But even after five years he hates the cold and the silence, shies away from the brutality of war, has failed to build that camaraderie with his men that Mark so naturally achieves. 

He prefers to venture in to the city, talk to his people even in the face of their growing unrest.

Jeno, Youngho and Jaehyun must still be sleeping off the late-night preparations they dealt with the night prior, because the three guards that are waiting for Donghyuck aren’t his usual party. Hyoyeon is a familiar face among the three, the only one who smiles at Donghyuck and Doyoung as they mount their horses. The other two have that bright-eyed alertness and stiff posture that betrays the fact this is probably their first time protecting the royal family. 

It almost makes Donghyuck smile. 

Instead, he schools his face into a neutral expression as they make their way down to the lower part of the city. 

Donghyuck’s only ventured down to the lower city a few times, almost always when his father and Mark were too busy or distracted to keep track of him, and almost always surrounded by his closest friends and confidantes in the palace. 

‘Are you sure you still want to go?’ Doyoung asks, their horses moving at a leisurely walk as they exit the palace’s outer walls. ‘You don’t have to go today, if you don’t want to.’

‘I’m not letting them down.’ Donghyuck keeps his voice low, not letting it leave the space between the pair of them as they move into the city. ‘I promised that I’d be there today, and it I have to do it without Jeno then so be it.’ 

It’s early enough that half the population still sleeps, but there’s still a hush that falls over the crowd and Donghyuck can only bow somewhat awkwardly at his subjects as they pass through. Donghyuck’s ordinarily the sort of prince who revels in the spotlight, but today he feels stretched thin. 

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Doyoung says through a broad smile. ‘You have a lot on your plate, especially now that Taeyong has returned.’ 

‘I have run a kingdom without my older brother present, I’m sure I can manage otherwise.’ 

Doyoung falls silent again, and it doesn’t take more than a glance for Donghyuck to huff out a laugh. The older man’s smile is perfect, the one that makes people at court swoon and diplomats at ease, but his eyes are filled with a sort of sadness that Donghyuck only recognises after a lifetime of trust. 

‘Don’t give me that,’ he sighs, passing through the gates that leads to the lower city. ‘I know my responsibilities, and I don’t run away from them.’

Donghyuck didn’t find out that Doyoung was in love with Taeyong until two years after his disappearance.

For as long as Donghyuck could remember, it had been Taeyong-Doyoung-Youngho-Jaehyun. Two eldest sons and two youngest sons of their families trying to be children but trapped in a palace built for adults. For thirteen years, they had operated as one beast, a delicate balance that had court officials murmuring of greatness before they even turned sixteen. 

Taeyong would be a great king with Jaehyun as his sword, and Youngho as his shield. Doyoung would advise him, smarter than any other man at court, and the kingdom was secure in its future. 

Donghyuck was the one to fill the space that had been his brother, and the three men left behind changed from friends to guardians. Jaehyun and Youngho stood behind him, protecting him as he stepped out of the shadows and into the brightly lit court. Doyoung instead stood beside him, guiding him and teaching him as Donghyuck struggled to adapt to the life of a prince that mattered. 

Doyoung had taken him, and every day for five years taught Donghyuck something new. He guided him through the gardens that surrounded the palace, and taught Donghyuck about the flowers that bloomed and what they meant. He took Donghyuck into the library and taught him about the history of their country, and how they came to be. He sat at Donghyuck’s window and showed him the movements of the stars. 

Every thought that Donghyuck ever had was shaped, in one way or another, by Doyoung’s teachings. If it were anyone else, the might have been worries about what the man might teach the young prince. But Doyoung was the golden child of the kingdom, his word trusted before his eighteenth birthday, and no-one dared argue. 

When Donghyuck was young, and dumb, he asked Doyoung what was so great about love. He couldn’t help but wonder why people were so easily fooled by an emotion that could ruin them. At fifteen, he was petulant and righteous and still that bit angry at the boy who had left them all behind. 

Doyoung had looked out the window and smiled in a soft and sad way. ‘Because, Donghyuck,’ he said in a voice that was heavier than anything Donghyuck had heard before, ‘when you’re in love, everything feels _right_. They’re the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last thing you remember before you sleep. They make you feel as large as the sun, but as small as raindrops on a rose petal. Their smile is what warms you from within, and their tears is what makes you want to be better. Even if they’re not beside you, they knowledge that they exist makes you feel whole.’ 

Doyoung’s eyes never left the horizon, far in the distance, and even though his eyes were still sad, his smile never left his face. Donghyuck, in that moment, never hated his oldest brother more. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/neocitz) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/neocitz)


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